


Can You Fix Me...?

by PlatinumWriter (orphan_account)



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Child Neglect, M/M, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/PlatinumWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hosts are forced to change in the same room together, and Kyoya seems to be against it completely.  When the Low Blood Pressure Kind begins to act strangely around the Hosts, Tamaki gets suspicious.  What could he possibly be hiding? *TW ABUSE*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can You Fix Me...?

**Author's Note:**

> A Note To All Readers: If you wish for this fic to continue, leave comments. I will not update if people do not let me know that they want it continued. My goal is to get a least 5 Comments on this chapter. So that I know that I'm not writing to an empty audience. 
> 
> This story was created with the help of a good IRL friend of mine who helped come up with the idea, so thanks Ally!

When the Host Club arrived at their dressing room early monday afternoon, they did not expect to be greeted by a ‘Do Not Enter’ sign on the door. The Host Club’s dressing room was never used by anyone else. It was strictly theirs. 

Afterall, it was the perfect room for their needs. With seven different stalls, and several racks to hold their unworn costumes. There were lockers to hold their stuff, such as uniforms and school materials. 

Tilting his head, Tamaki got on his tip-toes to look through the only window of the room. Inside, seeing the room was completely torn up. With workers currently ripping up the flooring and walls, even the lockers. 

“They’re renovating…?” He said slowly, with confusion, “no one told me…! Where are we supposed to change?!” He cried, shifting his costume, which hung over his arm.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” Haruhi said calmly, for Tamaki’s sake, “perhaps we can use the Drama Club Dressing Room?” 

“Wonderful idea Haruhi! Your father is proud of you!” 

“Senpai, you’re not my father.” 

They quickly headed to the Host Club and left a note taped to the door, telling they’d be back soon. Then headed to the Drama Club.

Of course, the Club was preparing for a play, and the stalls of the dressing room were occupied. As we the other Club dressing rooms. 

They didn’t even have extra stalls that the Hosts could take turns in.

“Mon Dieu… Howe are we going to change without being late each day!?” Tamaki cried, as they headed back to their own Club room. “All of the clubs go on at the same time!” He was actually about to cry, they had to get dressed three times a day, they’d lose customers like this!

“Calm down boss,” Hikaru said, realizing how worried the Host Club King was. “Why don’t we just change in that room in the back of the Club? Y’know the one that connects to the Dark Magic Club Room?” 

“I’m sure Nekozawa-Senpai will lock his door in if we ask so that no one walks in on us,” Kaoru added, “no one goes back there anyway, it’s probably safer for our stuff.” 

“Brilliant!” Tamaki declared, “we’ll change back there from now on!” 

“However, there's not enough to change one after another each day…” Haruhi pointed out. 

It took them all 20 minutes to change, and 30 for Haruhi, Tamaki, and strangely- Kyoya.

“Then we’ll all change together!” Tamaki declared. 

“And Haruhi?” Kyoya questioned, having been thinking quietly the whole time. 

Haruhi gave a sigh, “I’ll change with all of you, I’m not shy,” she shook her head, “I know none of you will look at me.” 

“It still wouldn’t be necessary if we had our dressing room,” Kyoya sounded irritable at the moment. 

The group began to head to the Music Room where Club activities were held, talking quietly amongst themselves. Kyoya being almost as quiet as Mori. 

About halfway there, Kyoya excused himself, heading to the bathroom. 

Making sure they hadn’t gone with him, Kyoya entered the bathroom and made sure no one was there, placing his bag on the white tile floor. He locked the main lock and made sure the door wouldn’t be opened. 

Standing in front of the mirror, Kyoya panted slowly, trying to calm himself, “I’ll just change in here until our room is fixed,” he decided to himself, “they will not find out.” 

With that, he began to take off his uniform, folding it neatly and setting it aside on the sink. He then reached into his bag for two bottles of concealer. Setting them down, he wet a paper towel, and began to wipe his skin up with it. 

Each time he wiped the towel across his torso, nasty shades of black and blue began to appear. There were bruises covering his chest and stomach, as well as splinter sized cuts- and large gashes. He tilted his head to wipe his neck, and a large bruise appeared- shaped like hands. 

He gave a sigh, and leaned back to look at himself, and remember how each bruise and cut came to be. 

The bruise on his chest- his father had punched him for failing a test.

The one on his stomach- his brother slamming him into the wall with a Pool Cue for beating him at a game of billiards. 

The little cuts- his other brother slamming a beer bottle over his head. No reason why, he just did. 

The hand marks on his neck- his father had tried to kill him. Lunging at him and gripping his neck, trying to suffocate him to death. Needless to say, it didn’t work. 

Yet, it left Kyoya in a traumatized state, and scared him into doing better. Better in school, better at home, better as a son, as a brother…

As Kyoya looked into the mirror, he grabbed the concealer, dabbing the substance on a dry paper towel. Before beginning to apply it to his now clean skin. Spreading it over his wounds. His neck, chest, arms, legs… Everywhere.

Making sure all of them were completely invisible, just in case. 

The mark on his neck was the worst part, it seemed to take long, and he winced each time he touched it. Feeling as if he was suffocating again. 

Finally, he was able to get into his Host Club outfit of the day, a pair of ripped up jeans and a white shirt under a looser, black ripped up shirt. 

A spiked up collar-like necklace that made memories flash through his mind, and metal chained necklaces with all sort of charms. 

Making sure no wounds were visible, he put the concealer in his bag, then this uniform. Before heading to the Host Club. 

However, his scars would get harder to hide. 

Especially from a pair of shady twins.


End file.
